Circa 15ABY, New Republic Era
Coruscant, the Second Galactic Republic
The transmission connects and a slightly fuzzy hologram of her brother forms. "Hello," Luke smiles.
She's not smiling. She gets right to the point. "We need to talk about Ben."
"What did he do this time?"
"He choked the neighbor's dog with the Force."
"Dead?"
"Yes, dead!" She briefs him on the details. "The dog barks a lot and it was left out on the landing pad barking away while Ben was doing homework. It distracted him. So, he choked it."
"It's a dog."
"That's not the point!" she huffs at this lackluster response. "He needs to know that he can't solve problems by killing people."
"What did he say?"
"He didn't say. Most days, that kid never talks. He always has his nose in a datapad." With a sigh, she complains, "Ask him a question and he will pretend not to hear until you have asked two more times at an ever-increasing volume. I have to yell to get his attention. It's annoying and disrespectful." In fact, she's gets mad just thinking about it. Ben does it just to annoy her, she suspects. It works every time.
Luke shrugs and gently prods. "He won't talk if you talk over him and talk for him."
She bites her lip guiltily. "Look, I was upset. I may have lost my temper."
"I can see that. What did Han say?"
"He doesn't know."
"Gone again?"
"Yes."
The hologram version of her brother sits back and considers how to handle the situation. But she already knows the solution. And thus resumes a well-rehearsed argument between them. "Ben needs more guidance." Guidance meaning some good old-fashioned Jedi discipline.
But the galaxy's reigning Jedi Master shakes his head no. "He's too young to train."
"The old Order trained kids from toddler age."
"I'm not doing that. Like I'm not doing the 'no attachments' thing. It was extreme and it didn't work. People need to be happy and they need a degree of maturity before they confront their power. I don't want to remake the Order with a lot of rules, Leia. I would prefer that my students set limits for themselves because they have the wisdom and understanding to impose self-discipline."
"That all sounds fine except Ben doesn't have any self-discipline. That kid has zero impulse control." That's the problem.
"He's ten."
"Almost eleven," she corrects.
"Look, Force strong kids are hard. Their abilities and senses far outpace their maturity for years."
She's heard it all before. It's not persuasive. "I was a Force strong kid and I wasn't killing pets as a fifth grader!" she retorts. "You weren't either! This is way worse than what he did to the poor teacher last year. Luke, this was unnecessary and cruel." And deeply disturbing.
Luke does not dispute her. For once, it appears like he's taking her trepidation seriously.
She tries again. "Ben needs guidance."
"When he's old enough, I will train him."
"Train him now!" she urges. Now before it's too late.
But, like always, her twin resists. "Leia, I can't guide him properly without telling him the truth. The whole truth." Those words now open a new front in their verbal battle.
She's having none of it. "Of course, you can!"
"He needs to know the truth."
"We'll tell him when he's old enough."
"When is that?"
"Not now."
"He has a power he doesn't understand and cannot control. But I can't guide him unless he knows the complete context. Leia, he needs to know what happened to his grandfather—"
"No!"
"—as a cautionary tale. Ben needs to comprehend the risks. Because it's a slippery slope from killing dogs to killing people."
"Yes! That's my point!" Why is Luke fighting her on this? Can't he see the urgency of the problem? Things are getting worse.
Her brother sighs and grumbles, "Was it a yappy dog?"
"Yes."
"I hate yappy dogs."
"Yes, but you don't kill them."
Luke smiles a little wryly. "I might be tempted."
"You would not. But this is exactly the conversation you should have with him. That we all have temptations to do bad things and he especially has the means to act on them. That's why he must be doubly cautious not to give in to anger," she argues angrily.
"Why can't you tell him that?" Luke posits.
"I'm not a Jedi. It has more weight coming from you."
"You are the student I trained the most," he counters.
"Maybe so, but I'm not a Jedi. Ben is the reason I'm not a Jedi." Well, one of the reasons. It's a sore point. She makes a face and asserts, "I serve in other ways now."
Luke leans forward in his chair. "Someday someone will discover the truth. No, Leia," he raises a forestalling hand to her immediate objection, "Hear me out. If we don't tell him, Ben might learn it from someone else. That would be a disaster."
She dismisses the concern. "No one would believe it."
"Ben will. He will search his feelings and know it to be true. And then, he will be betrayed and angry. Leia, listen to me," Luke implores. "Ben will be perfectly poised to turn to the Dark Side when he realizes what a terrible secret we have kept from him."
She stubbornly disagrees. "We are protecting him . . . from himself." And from the terrible legacy that is his shameful grandfather.
"Is that all we're doing?"
She meets Luke's eyes across the lightyears of distance between them. She knows her brother will never say it, but he's concerned she's protecting her political career as well. And truthfully, that is a consideration. But it's not the sole reason for her view. Her strategy of delay makes sense for everyone. Why can't Luke see that?
When the silence hangs heavy between them, Luke speaks emphatically. "Ten is too young to train. If he's too young to know the truth, then he's too young to train."
"When is the right age?" she challenges.
"You tell me," he puts the question right back at her. "When are you going to agree to tell him?"
"We were grown adults when we learned the truth. We were fully formed adults with a moral compass and a well-developed sense of self."
"Yes, and it still rocked our worlds."
"That's my point exactly! He's too young! He's not ready for the burden."
Luke shakes his head. "We can't wait until he's grown. That's too long."
"Sure, we can. By then, you will have taught him all you know and he will have the perspective to understand his heritage. He will see the tragic hubris of Anakin Skywalker and not fixate on the red sword, the armies, and the flashy suit," she reasons.
"Leia, can't you see that this delay is a mistake? You are going down a path with Ben that I cannot follow—"
"Don't be so dramatic."
"This is dangerous!" Luke finally loses his habitual Jedi cool.
She just fumes.
Her brother shoots her a look. "You know, you have a role to play here as well. You are perfectly capable of teaching him the basics."
"When? You know I'm busy."
"He's your son. Make time for him."
"I also have a Republic to run," she reminds him.
"I know, but you need to make more time for him. When was the last time you spent time with him?"
What kind of question is that? "He lives with me."
"That's not what I'm asking."
She squirms in her seat. Does Luke know that she sometimes avoids Ben? Her life is hard. Much harder than she lets on. Most days start early and run late. She's tired and worn down when she gets home. Often, Ben is already in his room ready for bed. She pokes her head in to say goodnight before she dismisses the nanny and sits down to decompress. Because some days, Ben is the last thing she wants to deal with.
"Maybe the kid just needs more attention. Have you considered that perhaps he's acting out to get attention?"
"No. That's not it."
"Would you even know?"
She's offended. "My mother was a queen. She ran our world and managed to raise me. I wasn't off making trouble just to get a pat on the head." She was raised in a tradition of public service by her adoptive parents and she fully intends to continue that role for herself. She won't be mom-shamed into giving up her dreams for her troublesome, unappreciative kid.
"You had Bail Organa," her brother reminds her. "He took you everywhere with him. When was the last time you took Ben anywhere?"
She looks away. "He doesn't want to sit through committee meetings."
"He needs more attention. He needs to see your example."
Here they go again. This call has gone the direction their conversations about Ben always seem to go: that she's doing too much and she should scale back to spend more time with her son. It all boils down to this: that she is the real problem. Well, she resents that sentiment. And is it so bad to want something for herself? Because that whole devoted wife and doting mother thing hasn't really worked out. Thank the Force she has her work. Otherwise, she would be a complete failure in life.
Still, it's a bit humiliating to admit the truth of how distant she feels from her own child. "I can't get through to Ben," she sighs. "He needs your example, Luke. He needs a father figure and a teacher. Han's not around and, well, Han's . . . Han. And he doesn't have the Force."
"You're thinking about this all wrong. Maybe the Force isn't the problem."
"Of course, the Force is the problem! In another kid, they hit or mouth off. You can deal with it. But with Ben, the violence could be deadly. There is little room for mistakes when they can easily result in tragedy!"
Luke's not opposing her to oppose her, she knows. Her brother is always willing to help. He just sees the problem and the solutions very differently than she does. But that dead dog is a wakeup call, she firmly believes. If they continue to look the other way, they could end up complicit to Ben's struggles. He'll be the kid who takes his father's blaster to school and shoots up the cafeteria one random Tuesday. She'll get the blame, too. They always blame the mother.
Can you admit that you don't like your own kid? Because she doesn't. Introverted, withdrawn Ben is nothing like her or Han. It's not just a phase. Even as a baby, he needed more attention than she could give. As an adolescent, Ben is now firmly in the camp of passive aggressive. She doesn't have time for that and she certainly doesn't have the temperament. She's a direct person by nature and she appreciates people who are upfront about what they want and need. It takes the guesswork out of things.
"I'm really worried that we're losing him . . ." She bites her lip and laments, "But maybe that is his destiny . . . "
The galaxy's legendary Jedi lets her vent her fears before he calmly points out. "Ben has a choice, like everyone else. No one is destined to be Dark. Leia, you talk about him like he's some sort of monster in the making. He's not that."
"Not yet."
Luke looks up sharply "Leia!"
"Look, I'm afraid of him! I'm afraid for him!"
Luke frowns at this admission. He probes, "Are you sure you're not overreacting? Ben's a good kid at heart. A little impulsive, a little moody, a little nerdy. But all of that will temper in time. He's in an awkward phase, that's all. All boys have an aggressive streak."
"Does he have to kill someone for you to realize the risks?" she nearly shrieks. "Isn't that poor dog enough?" Why does Luke refuse to fact facts? Truthfully, she resents that she gets the hard kid and the absent husband. She's got enough on her plate already. It's too much. Someone else needs to step up, and since it won't be Han, it has to be Luke.
Her brother seems to get more calm in the face of her increasing agitation. Sounding very much the measured Jedi Master, he suggests, "Have you talked to Ben? Not in the moment, but later when he's calm and you're calm?"
She blinks at her brother's failure to grasp the situation. Because these days, she never feels calm. She's stressed and pulled in many directions by complex problems that don't have easy solutions. Ben is just one on a long list of issues to manage. She grumbles, "I tried. You know I'm not patient. And I was angry."
"You're still angry."
"Yes. In the end, I just had to walk away."
Luke nods along. "Let him see that. Let him see that you struggle at times with your emotions. With fear and anger. We all do."
"Oh, he knows I'm angry."
"But does he also know you love him?"
She is stung at this question. "Of course!" She loves her son. She absolutely loves her son. That's why she's so fearful for his future.
Luke starts in on his favorite refrain again. "We need to tell him."
She refuses to resume that conversation. She moves on. "He's getting those obsessions again."
"Yeah? What is it this time?"
"The Clone Wars."
"The Clone Wars? Really? I wouldn't have guessed."
"They studied it in school. Ben learned the wrong lesson. He thinks the Separatists were right. Can you believe that? Here I am busting my ass to rebuild the Republic and my own son is a Separatist!" That realization had really shocked her. Then, it had incensed her. "It's like he opposes me! Like I'm raising General Grievous. Gods, I can't imagine what the teenage years will be like." She tries not to think about it.
"Does he have any friends?"
"No. I can't get him interested in sports or activities either. He just reads. That kid reads way too much. It's like he's in his own world."
"What is he reading?"
"I checked his datapad last week. It's mostly Clone Wars stuff and video games. He plays with that old flight simulator Han got him too. But that's it—war, games, and flying, that's all he's interested in."
"He needs more balance," Luke says, pulling at his beard thoughtfully. Blue eyes hold her gaze as he suggests gently, "It sounds like you could use some balance as well."
Is he going to tell her to take a vacation again? She's annoyed. "There is no work life balance for people like me. This isn't a normal job."
"I'm not talking about your schedule."
Her eyes narrow. She is taken aback and instantly defensive. "You think I'm going Dark too, is that it?"
Luke is his zen Jedi self in the face of her shrillness. "I think you are unhappy and I want to help."
"You can help by taking Ben off my hands for the summer." This single mother gig is hard and she needs a break.
"Leia—" he begins.
But she cuts him off as her emotions suddenly surge. It spills a torrent of despair out of her mouth. "I feel like I'm failing, Luke. I'm scared and I'm angry and I resent him, alright? I resent my own son!" There. She said it. And she's miserable for it. But that doesn't make it any less true.
Why couldn't she have a neat and tidy little girl who sits up straight at the table and is presentable to strangers? A little girl who doesn't fidget at school and who can smile and make eye contact? She would braid her hair and teach her manners and share all the wisdom Queen Breha passed down to her adopted Crown Princess long ago. They would have long mother-daughter talks about Alderaan and leadership and wear coordinating dresses.
But instead, she gets a sullen, often slovenly boy who likes to pick fights. She doesn't understand him and she's close to giving up trying. Ben's all ears and nose, his body growing so fast that much of it is out of proportion. It makes for extreme awkwardness and lack of coordination. The kid is forever tripping over his feet, which are already man-sized as a preteen. Force help her when puberty kicks in with the pimples and the hormones. How bad will his tantrums be then? He won't be looking at Clone Wars era recruiting posters on the holonet either. She shudders to think of what she'll find on his datapad in the years to come.
Does Luke see how tense things have become? He does. But does he also see how much she loves Ben? Because you can love someone and still not like them. You can want them in your life but also want to change them. And therein lies the problem.
Luke gives his best Jedi Master impression now as he strokes at his beard. "Maybe you should stop trying to rule the galaxy."
What? "I'm not!" she retorts hotly. She's indignant at the very suggestion. "The people rule the galaxy! That was point of the Rebellion. We didn't kill millions of people for . . . for . . ."
"That came out wrong," Luke immediately backtracks. "I just mean that you're doing too much. You have too many responsibilities."
"That's why I am asking for your help," she grinds out. And here comes round two of the guilt inducing 'you need to scale back' conversation she doesn't want to hear. "We were supposed to be a family. You, me, Han . . . we are a family despite all that had been done to separate us. From adoption, to Vader, to carbonite, to the war, nothing was going to keep us apart. But now look at us. Han's off racing and you're off building your temple and I'm building the Republic . . . It's all good, it's just . . ."
"Hard," he finishes.
"Yes."
This is all harder than she thought. She remembers being elated at Endor and then again at Jakku. Looking back from her current vantage point, it seems so naive. Rebuilding the Republic sounded easy until they actually did it. For what they say is true: democracy is messy and inefficient. But it's the most free, most fair way to do things. And after so many people died in the war, she's committed to seeing the New Republic through to completion. She vowed long ago that their sacrifice will not be in vain. The future they fought and died for will come to fruition on her watch. Plus, she's determined there will never be another Alderaan.
Maybe people never take big steps and dare big things without being a little bit delusional. She recalls being ecstatically happy on her wedding day, full of big plans for how she and Han would make their own beginning while the New Republic was beginning as well. The future was bright for them personally and for the galaxy. Finally, they could relax about things. No more living life on the run, in hiding. But over a decade later, Han has essentially moved out even though they are technically still married. She goes months without talking to him. When he does check in, it's usually a short message telling her what system he's in currently. Life has turned out to be lonely in a way she never expected. She's miserable and dissatisfied.
How did they get here? Where did it all go wrong? She's honestly not sure.
She's thought on and off about trying again with Han. The last counselor they saw thought things were salvageable. That if she gave Han enough space and stopped making demands, they could rediscover their spark and stop bickering. But Han seemed to take that as permission to disappear entirely. And while she can manage his long absences by immersing herself in work, young Ben doesn't have that outlet. Lately, he's stopped asking about his father. But when she checked his datapad search history, 'Han Solo,' 'Millennium Falcon,' and 'space racing' featured prominently. What can she do about it? Probably nothing. And frankly, she's tired of making excuses for her absent husband. So, if Ben resents him later in life, maybe Han deserves it.
"Just take Ben for the summer," she pleads with her brother. "That's all I ask. It will do him good to get out of Coruscant and get his nose out of his datapad. I don't like him reading about war so much."
"Have you talked to him about war?"
"It's not my favorite topic."
"That's why you should talk to him. So he learns the human cost to war, not just the dry textbook narrative."
"You're the hero," she points out.
"We're all heroes, Leia. He knows it too. We are big shoes to fill."
"See? You know what to do. Luke, you are the perfect role model. There's so much Ben can learn from you. And you have a way with him— you always have."
"Are you sure Han doesn't want him for the summer? Chewie loves Ben."
She looks away and grumbles, "I can't trust Han to handle him. He doesn't understand the Force and he refuses to try to understand. You're my only hope in this, Luke. I can trust you." She looks down as she summarizes, "Han's unreliable."
Luke nods slowly. They both know Han Solo's shortcomings. "Okay. I'll take him. But just for the summer. School is good for him. He needs to be around peers—"
"He has no peers."
"Maybe not in the Force, but in life he will. I refuse to sequester Force strong kids in my temple away from real people and real life. This is not a cult, and I do not want to promote arrogance."
"Okay. Just the summer then." She'll take what she can get.
"So, when does school let out? Should I come pick him up in a few weeks?"
"Don't bother. I'll send a ship with him and the nanny."
"Maybe you should come yourself."
"I can't spare the time. The Senate's going into special session at the end of the month."
Luke frowns. "Ben might think this is punishment. That you're sending him away."
"This is training, not punishment. I'll call it Jedi summer camp. Don't worry."
Luke nods but cautions, "Will Han be okay with it?"
"Does it matter?"
"He's his father."
"Only technically. I think Han's pretty much checked out from us." Meaning that she drove him away again . . . maybe for good this time.
"I'm sorry, Leia."
She shifts in her seat uncomfortably. "Me too. He's not the family man type. I guess I always knew that."
Han never pretended anything to the contrary. The humdrum day-to-day political spouse role never appealed to her smuggler husband and he wasn't keen on being Mister Mom. But the bigger issue is that Han's not a respectable guy and never will be. He's still the endearing scoundrel she fell in love with on the Death Star. And while that might make him dashing, it doesn't make him good marriage material, especially for a politician. Han has too much wanderlust to be happy for long on Coruscant. He's forever chasing some shady deal in some get-rich-quick scheme. And it's not like they need the credits. It's because he's bored and looking for adventure.
Luke, of course, knows all that. He ventures, "Do you want me to talk to Han?"
She looks up. "Would you do that?" Mostly, she tries to keep her brother out of her marital issues. It's not fair to put Luke in the middle.
But her goodhearted brother is ever trying to help. Luke promises, "I'll try. Maybe I can get him to drop by the Academy for a few weeks this summer when Ben's here."
"That would be nice." It's a good plan that might work, she thinks. Because maybe Han will come to see his son if he doesn't also have to see her. "Thank you, Luke," she says with utmost sincerity. "I have no one else to turn to."
Only her brother understands what's really at stake here. All his work to re-establish the Jedi Order and all her effort to re-found the Republic could come to nothing if Ben Solo goes Dark. The consequences of another fallen Skywalker could be dire for the galaxy. She doesn't even want to think about it. Except some nights, she can't stop thinking about it.
"It will be alright."
Luke sounds certain and it gives her encouragement. It's the hope she needs, for she has a bad feeling about this.
"Call me any time. Don't worry about the time difference."
She nods. "I will."
"I mean it, Leia."
"I know."
Luke smiles and disconnects, but not before he wishes her "May the Force be with you."
It's only after they hang up that it occurs to her that she never asked Luke about himself. About how the training temple is coming, about how his students are doing, and about his latest achievements in the Force. Those omissions prompt a fresh round of guilt. Because for all her frustrations with getting the New Republic government up and running, at least she has help. Luke is basically singlehandedly reinventing the Jedi Order. His job is in some ways, much harder than hers. And that causes her to reflect that whether it's her current position as a Senator, the good old days with the Rebellion, or her brief stint in-between as a Jedi Padawan, the hardest, most daunting job she's ever had is as a mother. No one tells you that at the outset. But it's true.